


from a different time

by xxELF21xx



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Drabble Collection, M/M, where my scraps come to die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: red and green, and everything else in between.
Relationships: Ookido Green | Blue Oak/Red
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! the following works are all scraps and/or writing practice! all warnings can be found at the start of every chapter.

**WARNINGS:** 2nd POV, angst 

'you won't come down,' he accuses, fingertips frosted and lips trembling. there are tears in his eyes, you don't know if they're from the cold or from the hurt. for someone who was so talkative, he's strangely silent now, an inferno erupting in the blanks of the room and the endless whites of the mountain. 

you make no move to confirm or deny. he'll be fine once he releases all his anger and stress, you know him that well. 

but clearly, things have changed after you departed for mt. silver and he for the gym. he's someone you recognise, know and acknowledge. but he's no longer a person you can read. 

unexpectedly, he turns to leave. your body reacts, tugging him back frightfully fast, heart thundering so loud you're afraid the mountain might hear it amidst the storm. he doesn't lean into your touch, doesn't do anything, a block of cold wood against your body. 

'let go.' 

you hate it. that voice, that speech pattern, the volume. you don't know who he is. but you hold on regardless, hoping and praying that you'll find the one you know if you dig deep enough. 

he spares no time, a newly acquired pokemon -- torterra, you think it's called. he's always been fond of turtles and tortoises -- flings your useless body across the cave, and you land in a heap on the hard ground. your bone might be broken, but they're definitely bruised. 

your pokemon make no move to help you. they're openly staring at him, confusion warring with animosity and familiarity. 

without another word, he leaves, the continent pokemon faithfully walking by his side with groaning croons. in a different time, it would have been blastoise. or eevee. or arcanine. maybe alakazam. 

your body aches, terribly crying. your eye catches glistening, broken bits of what used to be a pokeball. the very first generation.

he's not someone you can claim as yours anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNINGS:** 2nd POV, angst, hospitalisation

_ In a world of cautious detonation, you are my only utopia _

You don't look as bad as you feel. You still have ten fingers and ten toes, all your limbs are attached, all your organs nicely packed together in your growing body. You can hear, see, smell, taste and feel; none of your senses faulty or missing. 

Your shoulders are burdened with the weight of your titles, your names and your legends. Every bit of gossip and news you stumble upon sends you deeper into the droves of isolation, where you spend most time trying to thaw a frozen heart. You don't want these -- they don't mean anything to you. 

The only breathing moment is when Green is around. 

Green, who brings out the whispers of positivity and electrifying energy; who sees the light in every dark corner. Green, who is determined that all things bad will come to an end. 

You don't know how he does it, with his numbing brilliance with a bit of snark and a fair bit of mean. If there's anyone who could fall the world to its knees -- it's him. 

You aren't anybody when you're next to him, around him, in his peripherals. You're just you, a small town boy with a dream to get to the top. It's not invincibility, but you're not vulnerable either. 

'I don't know why I bother,' he huffs, chasing threads with loops and droplets. He's grown more haggard, the responsibilities on his shoulders always heavier than yours. There are books splayed out everywhere: evolution, breeding, habitat, bonds. You didn't know a Gym Leader had to know any of these. Scribbles and scrawls line his parchment skin, sharp and stark; you recognise the familiar handwriting of Gold, and wanders if he's came to visit in the time you weren't around. 

You must have pursed your lips, because he cracks a dry smile and throws a rather heavy book at you. It doesn't even reach, the resounding *thump* deafening in the silent room. 

Quietly, he packs everything away; until he's just a small town boy stuck in a hospital bed. 

'I'm not giving up.'

You take a seat next to him, counting down the days to his release or his death. 

You have everything -- parents, the championship, the mountain, the recognition -- and you'd give it all away in less than a heartbeat if it would mean that Green gets the chance to get everything. 

'I know.'


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNINGS:** slight angst, established relationship, 3rd POV 

They’re eleven, almost twelve, when the rickety bridge between them had finally collapsed in a burning heat, scorching them so bad that they’d shut themselves in and refused to let people in or see what the world had to offer outside of their mind. 

Always similar in many ways, they frustrated many with their shoddy defence mechanisms. Whilst Green had built himself up into someone who wasn’t quite as easy to read anymore -- his natural silver tongue coming into play far too often, with cheeky smiles and a holier-than-thou attitude -- and Red quite literally climbing up the most dangerous mountain in Kanto for self-isolation (or maybe it was meditation, as he had so often put it), it was incredibly difficult to get close to either of them.

It must have frustrated their family members a lot, back then. And they’re definitely lamenting the duo being insufferable  _ now,  _ reunited and bound so tight together it was impossible to approach one without the other. 

‘What,’ Green’s hair is getting longer, his fringe falling into his eyes, ‘oh. I’m fine with sharing.’ Red stares, face blank of any emotion, for a second before trotting off towards the counter with a grim look. ‘And  _ don’t  _ scare the cashier!’ The footfalls turn into manic steps as the Champion runs further up ahead, losing the other man behind. 

Daisy graces him with a bittersweet, melancholic smile when he faces her again, stopping his boring research talk. Concern overtakes him, and he very nearly shakes her shoulders with worry. ‘Something wrong?’ He asks, doing what he always does when his sister was upset, fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans and eyes studying her every move.

‘No, no,’ she laughs, sad but elated all the same. He doesn’t get it. ‘You two… ‘ She trails off a bit, taking a sip of her tea and clearing her throat, ‘there are a great many things that have changed these past few years, but you two always remain the same.’ Clasping his hand in hers, Green feels the callouses from years of hard work, and suddenly realises that they’re both adults now.  _ He’s  _ an adult now, all grown up and flying from the nest. ‘I’m glad that after everything you’ve been through, you’re still together.’ 

Maybe it’s the morose summer rain that’s gotten her into such a mood, dampening her usual cheer; or maybe it’s the time they’ve spent away from each other: Alola and Kanto were separated by vast bodies of water and land, phone calls and texts could only do so much; but it could also be the wedding band that rests snugly on her finger, 22 karat soft gold burning lightly against his skin. 

It felt like yesterday when he and Daisy had moved in with their Gramps, lost and aimless. Look at them now, both headed in different directions but successful and happy all the same. 

‘Honestly? Ever since he told me to get out of his school, my heart has been his.’ He barely manages to catch his tears as they fall, afraid that his greatest support, the mountain that always had his back, was going to disappear soon after. 

She snorts, whacking him lightly on the head. ‘Don’t be rude, now.’

‘It’s true!’ Call him a fool, but he keeps the damned note in his wallet. The paper is yellowed, crinkled from some months of hate, some years of pining and many great years of care, but the short, childish words remain clear as day:  _ get out of my school!  _

Red snatches it out of his hands the moment he sets the tray of food down, a cup of iced orange juice -- because they’re both children -- a kid’s meal (for the toy) and a cake shared between them. Clearly embarrassed, the man tips his hat to cover his face, ears pinking. However, he doesn’t throw the paper away, folding it neatly and handing it back to Green. ‘Don’t.’ His tone is coloured pink from shame, but Green finds it nevertheless endearing.

Daisy watches silently, grin stretching so wide her cheeks ache. She’s endlessly happy that they’ve found each other. 

  
  


Prompt: get out of my school/gym (ur last fic doesnt count) 


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNINGS:** Breath of the Wild AU, amnesia

The storm whips relentlessly around him as his rapidash slows to a halt. Beneath an old tree, he is largely protected by the harsh rain. A small shrine, overgrown with moss, sits without a care in the world; its offering dishes empty save for a lone apple. 

Something stirs within him, a phantom scratch at the back of his mind that reminds him of the familiarity of this scene. In his moment of recollection, he stumbles off of Pallet and staggers closer to the shrine. Alarmed, Mewtwo glides closer to him, arms hovering awkwardly as it senses the importance of this place. 

_ This place…  _ Mewtwo’s voice rings in his head, detached and emotionless as always,  _ we have been here before. Many, many years ago.  _ But there’s always  _ something  _ in its tone that washes him in deep regret and sorrow, tears building up from loss and devastation. Mewtwo’s voice and general presence was comforting, but not comparable to…  _ him.  _

Almost frantically, he slides the ‘Dex out of its pouch and begins flickering through his albums. Try as he might, there were a handful of photos that he could never bring himself to erase, each of them holding significant memories the Johto Elder had mentioned. 

Finally, he lands on a familiar landscape, snapped a hundred years (was it more? Were they more than a hundred years apart?) ago. The sky was dark, as it is now, but the stone shrine beneath a young tree was cared for, prayed to. 

Eyes drifting back to the present, the world falls away as he pictures his charge, the one he failed to protect, sitting near the rock while the rain cries down on them.

A name to match a face; he’s Prince Green Oak, last Prince of the kingdom, the one who bore the sacred mark. The one he was supposed to protect, but was now protecting him.

_ ‘Don’t think this will let up anytime soon,’  _ the Prince comments, a palm facing heavenwards as he sighs, eyes flitting dejectedly at the ground. They were returning back to the Castle, after having travelled to the Unova region and meeting with its Champion, but the sudden downpour had forced them to stop. 

The man in the memory does not even pause to acknowledge the Prince’s statement, too caught up in training -- a moment silent is a moment wasted -- with Mewtwo. They move in sync, fighting an imaginary opponent as the wind whips and pulls. 

A brief pause, the Prince deep in thought -- and he always is; with the looming threat approaching, he’s getting quieter and quieter as thoughts plagued his mind. Red would do anything to relieve his Prince of the burdens, but he’s a fighter, not good with words as a certain Champion was -- before he speaks up again.

‘Perhaps Grandfather was right,’ there’s a forlorn tick in his voice, a sort of self-scorning that the Red-of-the-past wouldn’t have noticed, but the current him picks it out so painfully easy. ‘Someone who was as devoted as you, so in-sync as a Trainer….’ Another pause, ‘your commitment to the training that is necessary to fulfil your goal is really quite admirable.’ 

He pauses, faltering in his movements. Mewtwo glides closer towards the Prince, obvious questioning on its face. 

‘I see now why you would be the Chosen One.’ 

Bitter defeat, frustration, months of travelling and discomfort -- all of it, bottled into a calm sentence. As if the Prince hadn’t spent the past few weeks fervently praying at the Shrine of Moltress, unbearable heat and dehydration threatening to take his life before the Calamity had taken its first breath. 

He turns around to get a better look at the Prince. His Highness should never look this… resigned. 

The rain patters down the Prince’s face, droplets forming at his lashes and painting his clothes a dark blue. ‘What if… ‘ He searches the grass trampled under his boots for a brief moment, and Red sees the wheels turning in the Prince’s mind -- because he has to be careful, don’t upset the fragile peace, don’t give gossipmongers any more reason to call him a failure. 

‘What if one day… you realised that you just  _ weren’t  _ meant to be a fighter.’ His posture snaps to attention, confused at the Prince’s sudden sombreness. ‘Yet the only thing people ever said… was that you were  _ born  _ into a family of highly respected Trainers. And so no matter  _ what  _ you thought, you  _ had  _ to become a Trainer.’ 

Mewtwo begins to hover -- it’s fretting, worried, nervous -- around the Prince. What was it sensing that Red couldn’t? (Fear, hatred,  _ whymewhymewhymewhyme _ )

‘If that was the only thing you were ever told…’ His voice chokes up, just the tiniest bit, but it’s a break in the usually pompous and arrogant mask. ‘I wonder then…  _ would you have chosen a different path?’  _

The rain continues to batter on in the background, but silence reigns between them. 

Howling winds root him back to the present, thunder crackling dangerously overhead. Red glances to the rock again, but the phantom of his Prince is no longer there; only space remains where he once sat. 

What were they, when they were trapped in the storm together? Were they friends? Were they still bitter enemies? Perhaps they were on their way to something more? 

Trembling, he places the ‘Dex back in its pouch, wet grass clumped under his boots as he took refuge near the rock, the complete opposite of what he would have done a hundred years before. 

_ Grieving.  _

He’s grieving. Of people lost, memories jumbled, languages and words he can’t quite hold on to. 

_ Red. It’s dangerous to stay here.  _ Mewtwo reluctantly draws closer to him, but still far enough to show that their bond was not what it used to be. How much has Mewtwo lost, when it has retained everything Red was now chasing after? 

Numbly, he nods, allowing his partner to help him up and shield him from a crack of lightning. Pallet remains steady for him, brazen as its ancestor. 

_ It would be wise to rest at a stable for now.  _

If there were no gods, no legendaries, no Champions, no threats -- what  _ would  _ he have chosen? 

Would he still be by his Prince’s side? Or would they pass each other in the Castle without ever knowing who the other was supposed to be? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been in my head for SUCH a long time, and i'd always wanted to write this scene in particular bc it's probably my favourite cutscene in botw. a huge thank you to mieu for bearing with me rambling on and on about this, and for encouraging me to get back into gear and write this.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://ankh-o.tumblr.com/)


End file.
